


Keep Coming Around

by celli



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Closeted Character, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-07
Updated: 2010-10-07
Packaged: 2017-10-12 12:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/124658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celli/pseuds/celli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Complimenting a talented tongue has consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep Coming Around

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ignaz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignaz/gifts).



> Thanks to [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/svmadelyn/profile)[**svmadelyn**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/svmadelyn/) for an awesome beta. Title from "Whaddya Want From Me."

  
_"My tongue's not nearly as talented as yours..." Ryan Seacrest to Adam Lambert during AI Season Eight's Elvis Week._

Ryan didn't often attend the performance show afterparties--Thursday was a nineteen hour day, give or take, and even he needed some sleep--but after the crack about Adam's "talented tongue," not to mention the rest of the show, Ryan needed to show up and look unruffled, or the fallout would be even worse. (The clip was already up on Youtube, along with the one of him slow-dancing with a male audience member. Technology today.)

More of the Idol "family" was there than usual. Adam had always had that effect on people, and besides Allison and Matt, Cook and Archie were there, Paula had made an appearance, and Kimberly and Justin were interviewing people whenever they could corner them. Ryan went all the way around the room, dodging waiters and entourages and hastily-interrupted conversations, keeping the interviewers in sight the whole time.

"Here," he said, dropping a Heineken onto the table next to Simon.

"I have a drink." Simon was sprawling back in his chair, one foot propped up on the opposite knee. It should have been an invitation to come start a conversation with him, but Ryan had been watching him drive people off with one look for the last twenty minutes.

"You're even crankier than usual, man. Obviously you need another drink." Ryan sat down in the chair next to Simon. He vaguely noted that his feet were sore, and the crease was falling out of his pants. "I, on the other hand, am flying high. I think it's safe to say that my ratings will be healthier than healthy tomorrow, and I'm not going to have to think of things to talk about--I _am_ the thing to talk about. I wonder if Adam--"

Simon dropped his foot to the floor and leaned forward. "Ryan?"

"Yeah?"

David Archuleta was laughing nervously at something Debbie was saying behind them; Simon moved in even closer, like he had a million times on the show, and Ryan automatically repressed the shiver across his skin that Simon's breath on his cheek caused.

"I cannot tell you how uninterested I am in the shallow, pathetic thoughts of your group of spotlight-addicted homophobes. I wouldn't listen to your show tomorrow if to do otherwise meant the end of my career."

By the time Ryan reorganized his scattered thoughts, Simon was upright and walking away from him. Ryan opened his mouth to call after him, but what would he say? He sank back in his chair and took a drink from the beer he'd brought Simon instead.

***

"I'm disappointed," David Cook said some indeterminate amount of time later, taking a spot next to Ryan along the far wall of the room.

Ryan forced himself to stop staring down at his half-full beer bottle. "Disappointed in what?" he asked, not defensively at _all._

"I would have crashed the show tonight if I'd known you were looking for a dance partner."

"You're very sweet," Ryan said. He attempted a natural sounding laugh.

Cook smirked and took a swig of his own beer.

Across the room, Paula and Kara were doing something entirely inappropriate with Matt Giraud, and Adam was teasing Allison. He looked over and raised an eyebrow at Ryan; Ryan looked down.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Cook asked.

"About what?" Ryan asked, even more not defensively.

"I don't know, whatever, dude," Cook said, waving his beer bottle in the air. "We can stand here and be manly men if you want--"

Ryan snorted.

"--but you look fuckin' miserable, and if you want to tell me why, that's cool too."

"I'm worried about Adam," Ryan said, and scowled down into his beer. Or rather, Simon's beer.

"Adam? Lambert? The dude that's going to be possibly the biggest thing Idol ever produced? That guy?"

"The guy that just--" Ryan gestured--" on national television, and who has to live in Hollywood in 2010. That guy."

"Oh, _that_ guy."

Ryan scowled over at Cook, who put his hands up in mock-defense. "Manly men, all right, I got it."

It would be easier to just let that end it and walk away. It was what he did. But Ryan stayed frozen in place, Simon's voice still echoing in his ears.

"Here's the thing," Cook said after a long minute. "It's hard as hell to live honestly in the public eye."

Ryan ducked his head and traced the label on his bottle. "Mm-hm."

"And it's even harder when what people think of you determines whether or not you keep your job or go back to slinging beers or--whatever you did before radio."

"I didn't do anything before radio," Ryan said half to himself.

Cook nodded. "So it makes sense that we worry about whether people like us, right? Shit," he added in a wholly different tone.

Ryan looked over to see Kim Caldwell working Archie into a corner. The poor kid's cheeks were bright red.

But-- "So you don't think Adam does that?" he asked as Cook pushed off the wall and took a step away.

Cook turned back. "I think Adam's got better priorities than the rest of us douchebags put together. What do you think?" He slapped Ryan on the shoulder and took off across the room.

***

Finding Simon when he was in a mood was a little easier than Ryan ever let on. He bypassed the dressing rooms and Simon's Shrek-sized trailer and headed for the smoking section on the other side of the theatre. Simon was there, a good twenty feet from the other smokers, long-time crew members who knew when to leave well enough alone.

Ryan smiled brightly at the crew, who suddenly realized they were done with their half-smoked cigarettes and quite literally exited stage left. Ryan turned his smile on Simon, who made a point of looking right over Ryan's head. He knew Ryan hated that. Ryan kept smiling.

"If you're here for an apology, you'll still be here when your show starts tomorrow," Simon said.

"An apology? Why would I need an apology? I already know how you feel about my shallow, pathetic, homophobic self." Simon started to say something, but Ryan steamrollered right over him. It felt good, he'd have to do it more often. "Because of course accidentally flirting with a guy is only a shock tactic for ratings. Of course I'm sitting around looking for ways to perpetuate homophobia. Of course I'm only interested for all the wrong reasons. Christ, Simon, what else would I want?"

"I can tell you what it looks like you want," Simon said, his words coming out in sharp puffs of cigarette smoke.

"Yes, Simon Cowell, he who knows it all, final judge of everything America needs. Tell me who I am, and what I should want, and what to do. Go ahead. Tell me."

Simon wasn't looking over his head anymore, Ryan noted grimly. In fact, he stepped forward to loom into Ryan's personal space further—which Ryan also hated, not that it mattered—and one hand flicked his cigarette away while the other came out to grab Ryan's arm.

Trying to pull away would be useless; Ryan leaned in instead and grabbed a handful of Simon's ugly shirt with his free hand. "Well?"

Simon glared down at him a moment, and Ryan's fist tightened in his shirt. Then his face twisted. "You can't admit you want anything other than your career and your perfect public image."

"Sure I can." Some of the anger was fading, but Ryan's pulse was still thundering in his ears. It was an effort not to lower his voice. "I want other things. I get to want other things."

Simon lifted his free hand. It grazed Ryan's side and fell back. "Tell me," he said, not lowering his voice either.

Ryan hauled himself closer to Simon. "I want…people…to like me."

"You bast—" Simon started, but Ryan leaned up and kissed him. Simon went slack for a second, then grabbed Ryan with both hands, kissing him back hard enough to almost hurt.

It only occurred to Ryan after they broke apart that they were outside, and any number of people could be standing right behind them. He forced himself not to look around, but Simon did, and Ryan didn't hide his relief when Simon shook his head.

"You're never going to pull this off, you know," Simon said. He had one hand inside Ryan's jacket, thumb rubbing absently over his shirt, and Ryan got a little lightheaded whenever he concentrated on it.

"Mm-hm," Ryan said. He carefully smoothed Simon's shirt down. "I hear you can't always get what you want."

Simon rolled his eyes; Ryan grinned and risked one more public kiss.


End file.
